Pence Gallery: March artists bring colorful work

At the Pence Gallery this March, we are hosting three new solo artists, each who plays with color in a distinctly different way. As we start to plan for our Garden Tour on May 6, color is a fitting subject to center on for the beginning of spring.

Joe Kabriel’s exhibit, “Sense of Time and Place,” is on display from March 2 to 25 in our Andresen Gallery. Kabriel’s landscapes, such as “California Dreaming in Yellow and Gold,” are first drafted in pencil on one of his travels through the Santa Monica Mountains, where he lives and works.

Like many Davis residents, he travels largely on a bike, and his scenic views merge a panoramic perspective with heightened color and texture.

Some of his drawings are printed on aluminum plates, which gives them an iridescent sheen — an appearance that he heightens through digital manipulation of color and pattern into a truly unique landscape.

As he writes, he hopes through his views to “rediscover the wonder of nature seen through a child’s eyes … and to ponder the meaning of life with fresh hope.” Like many landscape artists, Kabriel reflects on how capturing nature can be both a space to “explore the personal conversation between the inner and outer landscapes of the world around us.” Kabriel will be present for the public reception from 6 to 9 p.m. Friday, March 9, at the Pence, so please feel free to stop by to see his amazing view of nature.

Much like Kabriel, Davis artist Hannah Klaus Hunter spent a lot of time in her childhood outdoors, “picking up leaves, studying their shapes and colors, their textures and veins, taking pleasure in small details.”

Hunter still loves to collect leaves, which she brings into the studio, to capture the shape, texture and linear qualities of various leaves onto paper. She uses a monoprint process to do this, rolling out a layer of acrylic paint on top of a gelatin-based plate, and then placing leaves on top. After the paper is placed on top, a brayer is used to press the paint onto it.

Some prints are layers of four to five individual print runs, and successful prints are assembled with other versions into an overall larger composition. Sometimes the artist uses natural dyes and pigments to create her prints, which gives her work a natural feel.

To learn her process, plan to attend her Botanical Print & Collage workshop, on Saturday, April 7, from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. Sign up now at brownpapertickets.com. The cost is $105 ($115 non-members) and includes all supplies. Attendees will also create a small accordion-style book with their prints. Hunter’s exhibit, titled “Paper + Leaf,” is on display through April 13, with an opening on Friday, March 9, from 6 to 9 p.m., sponsored by Far Western Anthropological Research Group.

Another related workshop this month is our Ecoprinting session, from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Saturday, March 17. Book artist Dorothy Yuki has taught this workshop on using natural dyes and metals to make prints on cloth and other materials for many Bay Area arts organizations, and after Hunter participated in it, we heard so many great compliments that we had to bring it to Davis. The cost is $165 ($175 nonmembers), and artists can register online through www.brownpapertickets.com.

Last but not least, San Francisco artist Nicole Mueller unveils a new installation as part of her “Light Matter” exhibit, on view through April 13. Mueller’s works are both exuberant and complex, with shifting figure-ground relationships, vibrant color and pockets of deep space, creating pathways that weave in and out of her compositions.

Her large works are painted, cut, collaged, arranged and rearranged, resulting in works that exist between chaos and cohesion.

Mueller is the winner of the Glickman McClure Artist Award for 2018. Given to an emerging artist who produces a new body of work for the Pence, the award is donated by Mark M. Glickman and Lanette M. McClure, and includes a generous stipend.

Mueller is primarily a painter and mixed-media artist, but she is stretching into three-dimensions with an installation of suspended colored Plexiglas shapes. This one piece will be installed in the Bill and Nancy Roe glass tower, visible from our D Street entrance. Not daunted by heights, the artist will be installing at the top of a 20-foot scissor lift soon, securing clusters of wires with the colorful forms on them, so that when light passes through, the hues merge and overlap in truly magical ways.

Mueller’s inspiration was a French chapel with stained glass designed by Henri Matisse, and her installation is sure to have a very spiritual presence. As with any piece that is dependent upon natural light, it will constantly be changing, due to the shifting light conditions.

Her Artist Talk, which describes much of her artistic process and the fabrication of this recent installation, is from 1 to 3 p.m. Saturday, March 24. While the event is free, we are asking visitors to RSVP online, at www.brownpapertickets.com (search Pence Gallery). Mueller will also be present during our public reception on Friday, March 9, from 6 to 9 p.m., so stop by for a glass of wine and to meet the artist.

— Natalie Nelson is executive director and curator of the Pence Gallery; her column is published monthly.

I was recently asked to write a guest blog post for Ann E. Grasso, a talented East Coast artist and architect. I had a great time reflecting and writing it and wanted to share this repost with all of you.

Because I take classes online, I meet people from various geographical locations that I would never bump into otherwise. Hannah fits this category. While my usual draw is the visual, in the case of Hannah, it was her words, her thoughts, her care, and concern. Therefore, it is interesting to learn from her writing below that her first solo show was titled Text and Image. Text came first. It is my sincere pleasure to know Hannah through her art as well as her words.

Ann Grasso

And now the page is hers.

Text and Image

Text and Image was the title of my first solo show, many years ago. The title conjures a feeling of magic; the alchemy that occurs when words are combined with images. Those 3 words continue to resonate in my art, years later.

You Know Who You Are @2004, 11” x 14,” Acrylic and colored pencil on paper, private collection

How did I come to add text to image? It’s classic case of nature and nurture.

I went to college in Iowa City, IA, home of the Iowa Writer’s Workshop. Words flew through the air like birds. And my parents were writers; it was natural that text would flow into my work. A bookworm from childhood, I just figured that the best way to approach a piece of paper was as a page of a book.

Nonetheless, it took many years to figure out how text and image (painted, drawn or printed) interact and how I can use them in my art to create a tight and powerful piece of work.

When I incorporate text, I’m aware that the words exist as hundreds of drawn lines which combine with the lines of paint or drawing to form a composition.

I love to use foreign language books and because I can’t read Japanese or Hebrew (for example) and I lean more on the linear quality of the letter forms.

I also use my intuition when placing text. There are times when someone sees my work at an exhibit and knows the language that I have used.

More often than not, the meaning of the words harmonizes with the spirit of the artwork.

Another issue that arises when incorporating words is whether or not the words need be readable (especially in English). I’ve gone back and forth on this.

There are times in my work when I obscure the words, turn them upside down and make them difficult to discern. I don’t want them to lead the meaning.

Seeds: New Year, @2017, 7” x 10,” Monoprint collage on paper

In my most recent work though, I’m more open to the words being easy to see and read. I’m using a Hindi-English dictionary as well as another dictionary in French.

I can understand some of the French, and that adds additional shades of meaning to the piece.

And although I can give you reasons why I include words in my work and tell you how I use them, what undergirds it all is a kind of joy. When words come together with color, shape and form, I feel whole and complete.

As You Begin, @2017, 12” x 12,” Monoprint collage on panel

How about you? How do you use text in your artwork? I’d love to hear from you.

Recently I’ve thought about the line between inspiration and influence and when influence can become confluence in art. I wanted to break it down even further so I could understand how these elements operate in my own art making practice.

Last week, I had the chance to explore the thread I call “confluence” following a workshop in botanical contact eco printing.

Examples of botanical eco printing on paper

I love the ethereal effects that I see in eco printing and wanted to see if I could use plant pigments in my own monoprints.

The workshop, led by artist Lotta Helleberg, was challenging and absorbing. Each day we explored the subtle combinations that plants and mordants (fixatives) can create. I tried to keep the various equations in neat columns in my mind’s eye.

My best work came when I threw up my hands and stuck to the basics.

Infinity scarf printed with prunus leaves on silk/wool blend

The question of inspiration, influence and confluence only truly emerged back in my studio. I work with plant materials, acrylic paints and a gel plate to create botanical monoprints. I wanted to carry over the watery influence of the eco dye baths; the way plants emboss themselves into the paper and leave tangible marks of their presence. I figured this would be easy.

After several printing sessions, I ended up with prints that were neither eco nor mono but a muddle.

Eco prints and monoprints converging

“What’s going on?” I wondered. “I know how to do this.” I was confused until I received an email from another student. She mentioned how stuck she was following the workshop.

The metaphor of two rivers joining rushed into my mind. When one river joins together with another, it’s called a confluence.

Many things happen when two or three volumes of water with different temperatures, speed and density merge. It’s a messy affair.

The same thing happens when we take part in classes or workshops. The nature of a workshop is immersion; in technique, artwork and the work of other artists. That’s confluence. Once back home, it’s confusing. What’s us? What’s not ours? What marks, patterns or colors looked good but may or may not belong in our work?

Like two rivers converging, it takes time for new material to settle, to allow our unique voice to emerge, hopefully all the stronger for joining with others.

After all, when the Yangtze River absorbs the water from the Jialing, it becomes more powerful and runs for thousands of miles until it meets the South China Sea.

We just concluded our yearly retreat at Wellness Within. Located just outside the Tahoe National Forest at 3500 feet, Harmony Lodge was a cozy place indeed as the rain poured down outside.

Our focus was self compassion; we spent the afternoon trading stories, thoughts and memories as participants created papier-mâché "bowls of compassion." Tears and laughter filled the room as one woman after another shared her thoughts and colorful bowl.

The bowl of compassion project is just one of the art therapy workshops that I'm offering this year at Wellness Within, a cancer support organization in Roseville, CA.

Early in the year I wanted a focus around which I could build this series of workshops. Grazing the internet, I came across Brené Brown's 10 guideposts for wholehearted living. On my first read through her book, "Gifts of Imperfection," they did not leap off the page. This time was different. Fascinated by the way the guideposts* actually offer a set of prompts to cultivate these qualities, I knew that I'd found my subject.

The Wellness Within folk are a diverse group, tied together by the commonality of a cancer diagnosis. They often arrive newly diagnosed, shocked and alone--or further along the treatment spectrum, seasoned and ready to share what they've learned with others.

I wanted the art projects and guideposts to offer each of them nourishment and a step along a path of healing.

In January, we dove into authenticity and February was the month of self-compassion. (What better way to celebrate the month of love?) Each time we meet, I'm humbled by these women's courage and fortitude, and, simultaneously buoyed up by the stories they share.

Going forward, we'll paint, print, collage and laugh our way through whatever arises on this sturdy path of months. And, as the year unfolds, we'll create practices that incorporate these guideposts in easy and practical ways.

Our next workshop at Wellness Within is on Saturday, March 11 from 10 am - 12 pm. Our focus: cultivating a resilient spirit, or: let go of powerlessness, a topic that could not be more apropos for these times. If you'd like to join us, there are still several spots open. To register, or for more information, contact Wellness Within.

Since the beginning of the year, I've made an effort to begin writing in journal form again and it's showing up in my art work. Small bits of text find their way onto paper, and I'm working on pieces that are deliberately sequential. I'm thinking about seasons, passages of time, and the way in which the seasons provoke us to change our direction.

This is not new, I've been intrigued by the seasons for many years and have woven that into my work, whether in drawings, paintings, or prints. The difference is that I've begun to track more incremental changes, moment to moment and day to day. I've begun to work in smaller squares and rectangles, each piece representing a fragment in time, a feeling of the sun's placement in the sky.

I had spent just a couple weeks on several panel pieces when I received an email from artist and gallery owner, Sara Post.

Early last year, Sara opened up Art 26, a gallery and studio whose space is light, intimate and filled with inspiration. When I saw it, I thought "I'd like to exhibit here." That thought was reinforced by a series of excellent exhibits.

The email said that Sara had a cancellation in the gallery for February, would I like to step in? Would I? It was a great opportunity, not to be missed and, a way to take the temperature of my new series.

Here's the scoop:

HANNAH HUNTER : LOVE NOTES

ABSTRACT BOTANICAL PRINTS / COLLAGE

FEBRUARY 10 - MARCH 6

ART 26, 231 G ST. #26 , DAVIS, CA

ARTIST'S TALK: FEBRUARY 10TH AT 6:00 PM, RECEPTION: 6:30 - 8:30

FOR MORE INFORMATION: sarapostart@gmail.com

If you're in the area, join me at the reception, or or drop by the gallery this next month and take a look.

I'll be giving an artist talk on Friday, February 10th at 6:00 pm. Come and celebrate the month of love!

There are so many ways that we can slide on that delicate bridge of seconds from one year into the next. Like a newborn child, we can burst out suddenly, or, perhaps, be dragged by our head or legs, reluctantly surrendering the comfort of a warm, familiar home.

In turn, we have created many rituals to ease the transition from one year to the next: celebrations, recounting stories of the old year, hopes and goals for the new. All of these rituals help us to make it over the bridge of years

One of the rituals I enjoy the most is looking back over the year.

I began the year with a challenge to myself: to make 30 collages in a period of 30 days. I started in San Francisco, transitioned to Kauai, and completed the 30 days in my studio in Davis, Ca. Not one to rest easily with only one challenge, I posed another to myself; this one physical, emotional and spiritual: yoga teacher training. I was the second oldest in the class, but determined that my age would not exclude or daunt me.

I loved it and I hated it; it tested my intellect, my body and perhaps most of all my patience. To stand, sit and move in one space for the period of 6 hours at a time, drew on my inner resources. I made it through.

Artistic challenges also filled the year including one with the improbable title: "99 Problems, But a Print Ain't One of Them." The exhibit required a series of 13" x 19" prints. I hadn't printed on that scale before, instead, composing larger pieces by putting together smaller ones. As a result, I spent a lot of time at Blick Arts in their paper section! Thank god that Panera Bread was right next door for refreshments!

Inspiration also found me in the teaching realm. I had wonderful students; eager, excited and indefatigable. I was amazed by their ability to create vibrant monoprints that radiated the stamp of their makers.

I can't get enough of learning. From the Master Class with Lisa Call to my classes with Sara Post on abstraction, I found that each contact with either group or teacher gave me a tiny burst of inspiration and enthusiasm; a nudge, a push, or invisible fuel that allowed me to take the next step or steps in my work.

They help me to catch hold of slender threads within that often elude me due to voices of inner bosses, outer cultural snobs and transient winds of change. With support, I can reach beyond them and catch those threads that have been dangling, just waiting for me to grasp hold of them.

And that's what I want for this year, to pay more attention to the threads that dangle, sometimes just beyond my reach. because when I can catch them, and pull gently, I'm taken on roads that I cannot imagine.

Right from the get go, this summer presented its challenges. I say challenges because I like to think that I can rise to them, rather than being overcome by them.

So, when my 85 year old mother experienced a series of unfortunate events (think Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day), it was time to put my thinking cap on. She was beset by one malady after another and while helping her through, I knew that I needed to re-craft my art practice. This is because art is both a vocation and something that’s hard to go without. I had to create a series that was a marriage of necessity and curiosity.

Right away, I decided to reduce the size of the prints. I’d been working in sheets of 9″ x 12″ that arranged in 3 rows of 3, created a piece. “O.k.,” I thought, “I’ll jump back to the 30 x 30 challenge. 6″ x 8″ it is!”

And my topic? Over the last few years, I’d noticed that the recycled copy papers I use to mop up extra paint produced some extraordinary layers. The effect is something like a stucco wall with many layers of paint; an inadvertent fresco.

Sample of Traces

But how to create that effect on the thicker art paper? I began by simply putting pieces of paper down on the painted plate and leaving them there for a time. In this hot, dry valley, I didn’t need to wait overnight. Several hours could produce a paper with a thick layer of acrylic, very satisfying to pull off the gelli plate. I also added one or two layers of gel medium, tinted to bring out the color I was working with.

It’s been tremendous fun and the smaller sheets of paper provided a journal format; a way that I could record the mood of the day, the season and my own internal drive to leave traces of these days.

I've been tucked into my studio for the last couple months, drawing jade plants, diverse succulents, taking notes and obsessively printing gelli prints. I’ve filled a notebook, and in the process, found a rhythm and perhaps some answers to a problem I've been trying to solve.

For the past couple of years, I've worked on a series called Shift, in which I explored my ecological niche of Davis. As the series progressed, I became more interested in the unusual shapes of plants I found visiting various botanical gardens. I began another series of collage works I called Botanical Dreams, inspired by the 30 paintings in 30 days challenge presented by Leslie Saeta.

I’ve wanted to continue this series and I wanted to wed the monoprints of Shift with the collage, but after several months of trials and lots of recycled prints, I think I’m trying to make an arranged marriage. Shift needs to be one series and Botanical Dreams another.

As I write this, I realize that actually, I'm the bridge. I think that it's hard to leave the safety of a known series and decamp to another largely unknown territory, but the connection lies simply in my own two hands.

Many years ago in graduate school, I was introduced to a form of printmaking called monoprinting, or sometimes, monotype. I'm a person not well suited to the long and meticulous craft of printmaking. But I did so love the notion of placing paper onto plate, applying pressure and seeing the creation of a whole new piece. It appeals to the alchemist in me.

Through the years I've experimented with different kinds of plates: glass, plexiglass, even the plastic surfaces of cutting boards, but I couldn't find a decent, printable surface that worked without the aid of a press. Then, one day several years ago, I visited an open studio event of a friend. She gave me a tour, and there, in one of the other artist's spaces, it's colorful package glinting in the sun, was a gelli plate.

As I touched its soft yielding surface (much like a batch of jello), I considered the possibilities. My friend offered to show me how it worked and we had several weekend workshops including other interested artists. I was hooked. Now several years and a number of plates later, I'm still experimenting, trying to push the limits of what the plate can do.

Next month, I'll be teaching a gelli printing workshop at our local Pence Gallery: Saturday, May 14 from 10- 3. There are still a few spots left, so whether you're new to gelli printing, or you'd like to stretch your printmaking boundaries, I'd love to have you. I'm super excited about the planning--and look forward to sharing what I've learned about the simple beauty of this process.

I was standing in front of my art cart about a year ago at the UC Davis Children's Hospital, looking over my supplies, organizing them for the day, when a nurse came through the door and began riffling through the coloring books on an adjoining cart. "Do you have anything for a three year old?," she asked.
"That's a good question," I thought as I too flipped through the stack of donated coloring books. I saw Spider Man and his assorted cohorts, but nothing that would really be appropriate to a 3 year old's developmental needs. As I walked back to my office, I thought that we could really use a book with healthy images that connects children to the natural world without the inclusion of violence.

When I got back to my office a bit later, I logged on to my email and found a new note from a person that I didn't know, Pauline Molinari, a book editor, asking me if I would be interested in writing the text for a coloring book.

Kismet? Ask and ye shall receive? I was delighted that my unspoken question was answered so promptly. I quickly researched Pauline and the publisher for whom she worked, Walter Foster Jr.(an imprint of Quarto books), and picked up the phone.

Thus began a collaboration between myself, the fabulous illustrator, Stephanie Peterson Jones and Pauline. I was fortunate to have free reign over the structure of the book and decided to focus on 4 of the 5 primordial elements: fire, air, earth and water. (I didn't include ether because, well, you get the picture.)

Over the next several months, we mapped out spreads, I created prompts and Stephanie's illustrations unfolded in response. All the while, I began to see more and more coloring pages emerge on artists' and art therapist's sites. I was excited and after the last prompt was done, the last quotation cited, the last drawing approved, I couldn't wait to hold the book in my hands.

But I did-- until last Friday, when I arrived home from an opening to find a package with the publisher's return address on the label. There, packed neatly, was the quotient of copies promised to me; crisp and ready for crayon wielding fingers.

I'm very pleased with the results and can't wait to share the book with my family and friends. If you'd like your own free copy of Be Happy and Color, leave me a comment at the end of the post. I'll put all the names in my husband's Irish cap and draw one. (And I promise to draw blind.) That fortunate person will receive a package full of inspiration and coloring bliss.

I decided to piece out all the steps (that I could think of) that are included in creating art work for an exhibit.
Step one, a sine qua none; Inspiration. Most of the inspiration for the Bloom 2 exhibit at the Pence came from visits to the San Francisco Botanical Gardens.

Step 2, Experiments. When I started making the prints, eager to see how they might look together, there were lots of false starts.

Step 3, Hmm. Prints that were good in themselves, but didn't quite fit into the 9 piece format I wanted.

Step 4, Coalescence. After a couple of months and lots of future collage fodder, I saw possibilities. When this happens, I've reached a certain way of seeing, and mostly, thrown caution to the winds. Solutions come spontaneously, rather than through a forced march.

Step 5, Documentation and Photographs. If you take good ones yourself, wonderful. I found a most excellent photographer in the artist, Diana Jahns. She finds the best angles, the best light and works until she gets what I want (as well as many options I never considered).

Step 6, Framing. Am I going to do it myself with pre-made frames or pay to have them housed in a nice shadow boxes with precise measurements? What's my investment as a whole? I opted for a framer and they turned out wonderfully.

Step 7. Getting the word out; time to hit social media.

Step 8, Delivery! (and Deliverance).

Step 9, The Opening.

Bloom 2 Opening this Friday!

Bloom 2 is up and 2nd Friday is around the corner! With an abundance of gallery spots in Davis, there's something for everyone to see. Of course, I'd love to see you at the Pence, where we'll be celebrating the Bloom 2 show. I'll have several of my multiple monoprint works on display including Folia, pictured here.

Come and enjoy a glass of wine, some fresh art chat and lots of gorgeous art for sale!

In March I'll begin a new job at Wellness Within, an amazing organization that provides support to cancer patients, survivors, their families and caregivers, all at no cost. They offer programs in expressive arts, yoga, meditation and mindfulness. I feel very lucky to be a part of the program.

As I worked on designing a class, I came up with the idea of an art circle. I think of it like a living mandala; a gathering of people exploring the healing powers of art making. Creating art in a community setting is a gentle way of bringing all of us, facilitator (me) and group members alike, back to our essential, inner selves.

We'll be using a variety of media; collage, visual journaling, creation of personal mandalas and a wonderful directive that was created by art therapist, Gretchen Miller; Creative Covenants. Don't let this list scare you though.You do NOT need any prior art experience. The only requirement for our time together is the ability to wield a glue stick and use a pair of scissors.

If any of you reading this knows anyone with a cancer diagnosis, cancer survivors or their families and caregivers in the Sacramento area, who might benefit from this group, please have them contact Wellness Within. If you’d like to learn more about this workshop, you can email me at hkhunterarts@gmail.com. I’d love to have you join us!

Sometimes, a project ends with fireworks and celebration, sometimes with the feeling of quiet satisfaction of a challenge met and completed. In the case of 30x30, I found the latter but also, the opening to a new series of work. In Kauai, I was captivated by the foliage and flowers; the variety of colors and the fantastical shapes of the leaves. One day, riding down to the beach, I twisted my head around to stare at a tree whose branches and needle patterns wound around in an elegant spiral.
I made the decision to return to the island this fall for an artist's retreat; a time to study, paint and draw the plant life. Until then, I think I'll be spending a lot of time at our local botanical garden, haunting my favorite, the Australian section, the closest cousins we have to tropical plants.

Below you'll find a convening of the 30 days--I was excited to make them into one giant collage; a celebration of the challenge.

I got busy over the weekend with an art therapy project for Wellness Within. They are a wonderful organization in Roseville, CA that works with cancer patients, survivors, their families and caregivers. It's a new job for me and I wanted to do my best for the workshop, so I put the 30x30 on the backburner for that time and let it simmer.
In order to catch up and cover the three days, I laid out the ground papers and worked on all three simultaneously. It was fun and gave me some ideas about how to expand aspects of this series into larger pieces.

Tu BiShvat Seder, or the New Year of the Trees is a Jewish holiday that takes place each year at the end of January or beginning of February.
There are many different explanations for the holiday, but I'm most fond of the one that expresses gratitude for the quickening of life within the trees, or, in other words, the first invisible signs of spring.

Although it is gray and rainy outside, warm inside my studio, I think of the Dylan Thomas' poem: The force that through the green fuse drives the flower.

While I'm no longer sitting in front of a spectacular view of mountains and sea, I'm very happy to be back in my own studio with all the quirky accoutrements that make it mine. I'm amazed that it's day 21 of this challenge and I feel in many ways as if I've just begun.

After I've been in Kauai for more than a few days, it's easy to feel like I've been swallowed up, head, heart and hands. Even if I hold back, there are the mountains, the mist and the sea, beckoning me with their hands out, and slowly drawing me in. Once immersed, I want to stay forever!
I'm returning to my sweet home in Davis, California tomorrow, but all of these days will come back in the form of art. And if you'd like to share in the aloha and own one of them yourself, don't hold back! Each piece is $100, mounted on cradleboard, $150 with cradleboard and frame. You can contact me at hkhunterarts.com